Short Story: The First Cut Is The Deepest

The First Cut Is The Deepest
David J. Dunn

She comes on at one in the morning. Usually on Thursdays; they don’t have anyone else to fill the time. She deserves better. The bartenders and the promoters love her, but they don’t think she’s a star. So they stick her on stage on a night when no one’s around to see her. It’s a shame. A damn shame.

The bar is half-empty at this point, so I find a chair and a double whiskey coke pretty quickly. I get a good view of the stage from my seat in the back. She comes onstage dressed in a satin gown. Her long brown hair flows down to her waist. She’s stunning. The way she moves mesmerizes me. I fall in love every time. Maybe tonight’ll be the night. Maybe I’ll finally talk to her. No, I’m not shaven. She’d rather me shaven. She shimmies towards the microphone hovering over the grand piano. She starts playing and I completely lose myself in the feeling. No one else can make me feel like that. Only her.

Her last song is a tear-jerking rendition of a Cheryl Crow song. She stands to raucous, scattered applause from those willing or fucked up enough to listen. She does a little bow and walks to stage right. The house lights come on. She starts to fix up her things in the corner. Her purse, a couple shopping bags from Fred’s and one from that new boutique, her jacket. A few like-minded but untalented musicians start to speak to her. None of them are as good as she is. She’s the best. I sit and watch her talk for a few more minutes before I down my warm drink and leave.

On my walk home, I cross through several backstreets. I’m content to not see anything, ignoring any voices that cry out from the alleys. It’s easier that way. But on this night, I hear a different kind of voice. A voice I recognize. The voice of an angel.

Immediately I run towards the voice. It takes me into an alley, still visible from the street. Some asshole in a black coat. He stands with one hand on my goddess’ shoulder, grabbing. His other hand is trying in vain to yank her purse away from her. He lets go of her shoulder and slaps her across the face as I turn the corner. He sees me before his hand has even left her cheek. He lets go and runs deep into the alley. Neither of us are willing to give chase.

We stand silent for a minute. When she finally stands up, she thanks me. Even with tears streaming from her eyes and her makeup smudged, she looks beautiful. Her leather jacket hugs her frame. I want herShe’s still wearing the gown from the bar. Before I realize, she leans in and puts her arms around me. I’m her heroI can feel her breasts push against my chest. I smell her perfume. I want herShe’s right here, and she’s beautiful and sexy and amazing and she’s mine

She pushes me away when I kiss her. I hold her tight between the wall and myself. She’s much smaller than me. It’s easy. After a little while someone calls for her and I let her go off with her friends. I turn back into the alley and continue my walk home. I’ll be back to see her on Thursday.